


Soft Shock

by yangji



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Anal Sex, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Massage, Pegging, Praise Kink, Strap-On, cathartic sex, mammon gets what he deserves, music inspo, soft fem dom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:20:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23500714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yangji/pseuds/yangji
Summary: Louder, lips speak louderBetter, back togetherStill it's a sharp shock to your soft sideSummer moonCatch your shut eye in my roomIn your roomMammon has been run through the wringer trying to keep up with school, demanding witches and inconsiderate brothers. It's time he get what he deserves.
Relationships: Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Main Character, Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Character(s), Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Female Character(s), Mammon/Echo
Comments: 7
Kudos: 202





	Soft Shock

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Lynda, someone that I randomly added as a friend on Obey Me solely for their status, "man u kno mc pegs mammon." Thank you for the inspiration, Lynda.
> 
> Soft Shock - Yeah Yeah Yeahs

The coveted familiarity of warm hands tucking her against an even warmer body lulled Echo from her dreamless sleep. Eyes still closed, she nuzzled into the heat of Mammon’s neck with a drowsy purr.

“Hmm, what time is it?” she murmured.

His sigh ruffled the bangs across her face. “Goin’ on two o’clock.”

That woke her enough to remember exactly where she was and why she was there. She shot up out of his grip to stare in his general direction, eyes wide in disbelief and adjustment to the dark. “Are you serious, Mammon? Where the hell have you been all day? Better yet, all _week_.” The hiss of her interrogation left her breathless and she paused until the ache in her lungs overpowered the initial flare of anger, inhaling deeply to try and rid herself of both pains.

Since forming a pact with Mammon, becoming friends and then something _else_ , whatever _this_ was, Sunday had been the first night that he hadn’t gone barging into her bedroom every five minutes with a distraction and an excuse to see her. She had been able to finish last minute homework with Beelzebub, and even got an early start on a group project with Satan. As the day wound down to a close, Echo realized she hadn’t heard from her first man at all, not even a Grimm.App request. A concerned text was met with a simple reply.  
  
**Mammon**  
Busy with the witches right now

She didn’t see him again until breakfast the next day, but other than a half hearted good morning, he paid no attention to anyone—or anything but the back of his eyelids. He was dangerously close to drowning in his cereal, head lolling forward until sleep won out and his nose bobbed below the surface, sending milk up his nostrils on the inhale. Suddenly wide awake, he jumped back from the table, toppling over in his chair in a coughing fit. Beelzebub leaned over and smacked Mammon forcibly on the back as he sat up. The other brothers laughed as they gathered around the table.

“Really, Mammon? Can you not complete the simple task of feeding yourself?” Lucifer tutted.

“LOL! My brother almost died in the cereal. How normie can you get? And send.” Leviathan tapped away at his D.D.D.

Sauntering through the doorway, Asmodeus tilted his head at the commotion. “What happened? What did I miss? Was Mammon being a big klutz again?”

Mammon batted away Beel’s hand as he alternated between coughing and blowing his nose in a napkin. “Give me… a break,” he wheezed but no one besides Echo paid any attention in the uproarious laughter. Nose running and eyes bruised from sleep deprivation, he scuttled out of the dining hall without looking back.

And that was the last she had seen of him that wasn’t his heels turning the corner or his head slumped over a book in class. She’d walk into a room that he was walking out of, yelling obscenities over his shoulder to Lucifer about his time being worth a lot more than what the other was willing to pay. He’d been sent to the office in every class every day for dozing off. When he didn’t try to sneak into her room during a thunder storm—a Devildom phenomenon incomparable to those of the human realm—seeking comfort in the circle of her arms, while attesting that _she_ must be scared so he was checking up on her, she took matters into her own hands. Swaddled in one of his hoodies, she had snuck down to his room as late night quiet overtook the House of Lamentation. A smirk played at the corner of her lips as she remembered him loudly daring her to steal the jacket and face the consequences. He then, of course, left it in her bedroom that same night and when she tried to return it, he stammered that she could keep it. Wearing it now was the closest she had been to him all week.

But—and she had cursed herself for expecting any differently—Mammon was not in his room. She afforded him one last phone call and text message. The call went unanswered, and even if she had wanted to leave a voicemail, the mailbox was full; the text left on read. Her reaction was not one of anger—she had dealt with that earlier in the week, in less productive ways than she was proud of—but silent ambivalence. She felt like an open wound, sore and pulsing with every extraneous thought of him.

In hindsight, coming to his room was not the best idea. It was hard not to think of him here, impossible to rid her nose of the sea salt and sandalwood scent of him. But it was harder still to leave now that she was here, caught in the web of longing spun by his prolonged absence. She lounged on his couch while flipping through a stack of magazines—he had every copy of every spread he'd ever modeled for—and went window shopping for a new hoodie in his closet. The radio of the classic car played the soundtrack of her listless wait. But that lasted only until Echo yielded to the night, huddled in an empty bed that was not her own.

And then there he was two hours later, snuggling up to her as though she were no longer this week's stranger.

He groaned and tucked his chin, mumbling.

“What? I can’t hear you when you’re eating the pillow like that.” She tugged his shoulder, forcing him to lean back and meet her eye. Her annoyance vanished in the sliver of moonlight that illuminated his pitiful form. “Oh, Mammon.”

The usual fire that burned brightly in Mammon’s gaze had been snuffed out. His face was puffy as though he were running solely on energy drinks and very little water, under eye bruised purple. His eyelids dragged as he forced himself to blink up at her, but fell closed automatically when he swayed in the warmth of her hand at his cheek. He had tumbled into the bed without removing his clothes, shoe-clad feet dangling over the side.

“I’m sorry.” He spoke in a whisper labored by the slumber that threatened to claim him, but she heard the underlying sincerity in his voice loud and clear. “I’m sorry I didn’t reply back… I got so caught up with everything, from doin’ a bunch of modelin’ shoots for extra Grimm to dealin’ with those annoyin’ witches, always making me do stupid shit.”

She thought he might have fallen victim to the sandman when he fell silent for several minutes, unable to see his face while tucked beneath his chin, but he continued in his hushed voice.

“And then, I gotta come home to Lucifer on my case about my grades, so I had to stay after school and do all this extra credit work. And just havin’ to deal with everyone else… ya'know how my brothers are.” He gave a huff soft in its tiredness. “But all that’s just an excuse anyway. Never should have ignored you like that, so… ‘m sorry.”

Remembering the last time she had properly seen him, Echo nodded against his neck. His apology came quicker than she expected, having anticipated a drawn out discussion about expectations and boundaries, but she had never seen Mammon quite like this before, overwhelmed by his obligations to the point that he couldn’t even afford his usual facade of hautiness. She always knew that Mammon was smarter than any of his brothers would give him credit for. His immediate and heartfelt apology was proof of that.

“I appreciate the apology, Mammon. And… about the texts, sorry, since you were busy, I should have just left you alone. I was uhm, pretty lonely, obviously.” The heat of her face was comforting pressed against his collarbone. He draped an arm over her side and exhaled a chuckle that had her squirming with embarrassment. “Juh-just forget about it and get some sleep. You look like you’re gonna pass out.”

He pulled her in closer so they were pressed flush against each other. His slightly longer leg—“Remember, human, THE Mammon is taller than you!” he loved to remind her, neglecting to mention the difference was only two inches on a good day—hooked around her own and tugged, tilting her pelvis and dragging her leg between his. His tug of war worked. Through the fabric of his jeans she could feel the stiff evidence of his arousal against her thigh.

“No way I'm forgettin' that,” he breathed into the crown of her head.

Pushing him back by the shoulders, Echo studied his face—eyelids fluttering as he struggled to look at her, mouth slack and then wide, all teeth as he yawned. Despite his half sleep addled state, she knew he wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted, greedy as he was, but he was in no position to lead. A saccharine smile split her face as she nosed the soft spot between his neck and jaw.

“Mammon, let me take care of you,” she purred.

His body shuddered against her. His dilated pupils washed away the blue of his irises as he gave her a half-lidded stare. “Yeh-yeah… please.”

Taking his face in her hands, cheeks warm under her touch, she slid up the bed to give him a kiss, languid as she ran the meat of her lips over his. He leaned in for more and—she was gone, the affectionate caress of her thumb a tender memory.

Her hands were needed elsewhere. She tossed his shoes to the side then slithered up beside him, flipping him onto his back with a tug to his hips. Pliant beneath her, she made quick work of his shirt as she straddled him, bunching the fabric around her wrists while running her hands up his chest. Where her nails skimmed the surface of his skin, it prickled with goose flesh. His puffy nipples caught on the fabric of his shirt as she pushed it higher, and she planted chaste kisses on each one before finally tugging the garment over his head.

Her mouth followed her hands, moving from the staccato of his heart to the roll of his stomach beneath her lips. The fine white hairs of his stubble tickled her chin until finally her fingers undid the zipper of his pants. She was not at all surprised to find him bare beneath her as she peeled away the denim from his hips, tossing them to join the shirt and shoes on the floor.

“Be right back, hun.”

Her heat left again and Mammon let out a questioning whine but did not move. Sure that it had been an eternity since she left, he sighed in relief when the bed dipped under the return of her weight. She was at his side again, fingers—cold! They were cold, and _wet_ , so the noise that he made now was one of disgust.

“Give it a minute to heat up. I didn’t have time to get it ready, y’know.” There was no authority in the scolding, just a poorly concealed laugh.

He suppressed further squirming and as promised, moments later, the oil was still slick but now clung to him as comfortably as a second skin. She pet every part of him, enveloping him in the protective hold of her soothing caress. Where the oil spread across his skin, the muscle beneath melted, pooling until he thought he might spill over the sides of the bed in a puddle of bliss. He felt outside of his body, simply existing in a plane where the only thing he knew was the steady in and out of her breathing above him.

She saved his sex for last, touch now feather light but growing in urgency at the swell of his thigh until it alighted to the base of his shaft and then pulled away. Before he could muster the energy to complain, it returned with renewed warmth and vigor, fingers wrapping around him in the same spot that it had left off. The glide of her hand was slow and deliberate, taking the time to appreciate every inch of him, reverent as it followed the subtle curve to its tip. Her hands retreated down their previous path to return repeatedly and each time the pad of her thumb brushed the sensitive underside of his head. Leaning forward, her tongue lapped wide and flat across his slit and the flash of his eyes widening punctuated his sudden exhale. Now that she had started, she had no plans to stop. With each pass of her hand down the length of his cock, fingers of the other hand tracing circles over the sensitive skin of his hips, she played him as though a skilled conductor, eliciting grunts and groans from Mammon’s throat so beautiful they resonated in her heart like a choir. The evocative tones spurred her on and she needed to hear more, to know every note that he could sing from her touch alone.

“My first man is doing such a good job.”

Her voice left her in a breath so scant, she thought he might not hear it. But he froze as though snatched at the scruff, breath hitching in his chest. When he found the will to breathe again, a hand shot up to his mouth, teeth digging into the fat of his palm as he failed to stifle a moan so alluring it stilled Echo’s hands on him which in turn wrought another desperate whimper from his lips.

“Oh, _Mammon_.”

Her hands left the heat of him and Mammon thought he might cry. But they trailed up his torso to his neck and face so she could place a single tender kiss to the corner of his mouth. Bringing her lips to his ear, she whispered reassurances in a breath that wafted over him like perfume.

“You’re being such a good boy. Now, turn over for me.”

Even if she had imbued the command with a tendril of magic, before the sigil on the palm of her hand could have begun to glow, he flopped over onto his stomach as she pulled back to give him room. Though it was uncomfortable, his erection pressed between two springs on the mattress, he couldn’t find it in him to complain, both too tired and impatient to get to the happy ending part of his massage. But she tugged at his hips and as he struggled to lift them, she tucked a pillow underneath his body. That’s when Mammon started to cry.

He tried to hide it, shoving his face into a pillow and straining to keep his shoulders still against the intensity of his sobs. She was back at his side in an instant, hands continuing their fawning of his body but with added pressure against the knots of stress along his back. Her lips feathered his ear again and her praise was all he could hear even over the sounds of his own crying.

“Just let it out, Mammon. You deserve this and more, so much more. If I could, I’d give you the world.”

She marked him with the butterfly remnants of wet kisses along the column of his neck as her hands groped lower. He came apart at her touch, cries dying in his throat as she took all he had to give and left him something else entirely. Reaching his hips, she left one final kiss at the sweat grey hair at the nape of his neck and pulled away to knead at his calves and thighs, sometimes grazing him with the tips of her fingernails to watch the erratic reaction of his skin.

His salacious throes of passion had faded, but as she watched him turn to putty at her devotion, desire continued to pool at the apex of her legs. Having taken advice from Mammon’s playbook, she wore only a jacket and a pair of shorts sans underwear of any kind. Her body had been reacting in turn to his arousal; the rough fabric of the hoodie irritated her nipples and the bottoms were soaked at the crotch. But focusing on her next move kept her acting according to plan and focusing solely on Mammon.

Finished with his legs, she cupped the bottom of his ass and spread him open with the fan of her fingers under the push of her palm. At the head of the bed, Mammon moaned low in his chest. Though his body felt heated under her hands, the breeze of her breath against the pucker of his ass was balmy, and the flick of her tongue burning. He turned his head to the side, gasping to catch his breath in hiccups that had her lapping at him again. His body wiggled pitifully against her mouth, always greedy, but a warning squeeze to his backside stilled him against the taunting lick of her tongue. Then she was inside him, one finger nudging the ring of muscle and with the slightest bit of pressure, she slid in to the first, to the second joint. She moved in and out with a languid twist of her wrist while peppering kisses along the curve of his bottom. When Mammon chased the retreat of her finger, she pulled out completely, only to sink back into his heat with two oil slicked fingers that pried him open and continued her methodical ministrations. Twisting in, twisting out, building him up again. All too soon she pulled away.

“Spread your cheeks for me, hun. Yeah, just like that, you look so hot.”

His heart beat loud in his chest as he reached behind himself, hands replacing hers and exposing him to the dark of the room. Though his face was flush and shined under a thin sheen of sweat, he felt something sticky on the pillow against his stomach. How they had gone without each other for a whole week, Mammon wasn’t sure and now, he was torn between never wanting to be away from her again or hiding away another week just to get the same treatment upon his return. She had already gotten him so close with her hands and watched him crumble, was now helping him to rebuild. He shivered in anticipation. What in the nine circles of Devildom was taking her so long?

Something smooth and round poking at his exposed hole sent another soft shock tingling down his spine.

“I want to show you how priceless you are.” One hand kept her propped above him, the other ghosting his ass where it held her hard-on against its target. Gathering the energy to open his eyes, well, one eye, he could just make out the highlight of her face in the shadows, slack-jawed, wide-eyed. Her mouth closed only long enough for her to lick and press her lips together as she watched him. “Are you ready, Mammon?”

The stillness of her body above him spoke the severity of her question.

“Yes,” he rasped.

The unforgiving pliancy of the dildo slipped easily into his tight heat, willing and ready to take all she had to give. It filled him to the brim as she pressed their bodies flush against each other. One hand rubbed circles into the small of his back while the other traced the back of his thigh.

“You look so beautiful on my cock, Mammon. I knew you’d wear me well.”

And then she was moving, pulling away from him and reeling back in so his only reply was a sonorous moan. Both hands gripped his stuttering hips, thumb clamped into the fat of his ass, holding him still beneath her tortuously slow thrusts as though she wanted to memorize the feel of each muscle that clenched around her. Eyes screwed shut against the mounting pleasure, he couldn’t see her gleam of deviltry fixed on the puckered grip of his asshole as his body tried to pull her in deeper. She wanted to keep this pace, but her name gasped between his brittle cries reignited a spark, the cupidity to hear his vocal range returning. Mammon’s breathless “Oh, _fuck_ ,” repeated like a mantra as the head of the dildo brushed his prostate, absolved her of all reservations.

“Tell me how you feel, my love.”

She shifted back for better leverage and then set a brutal pace. The smack of skin on skin and the strain of mattress springs accompanied the wanton sounds Mammon failed to stifle with his pillow. The muscles of his back rolled beneath his shining skin as the initial shocks of pleasure coalesced into bolts of lightning that coursed through his body. He could feel his impending orgasm like the drop in pressure that signaled rain. He just needed—her gentle squeeze of his cock broke the clouds and he was coming down hard in her hand. She slowed above him, stroking inside and out to let him ride out the storm.

He must have drifted off because one minute he was basking in the afterglow as Echo slipped out of him, feeling a bit like a sunburn slathered in aloe, and the next she was curled around him, kissing the top of his head. Her breathing was slightly labored as she threw an arm over his side.

“You did such a great job, Mammon. You always work so hard.”

No longer able to open his eyes, he nuzzled blindly into her hand wrapped around his and she gave a laugh slow with drowsiness. The huff of her breath tickled the back of Mammon’s neck, but its presence was comforting and with the sound of her rhythmic breathing, lulled him to the edge of his consciousness and toward the land of dreams. He took the last step over the boundary when she sighed against his skin.

“That’s why you’re my first man.” Her thumb stroked his and her next sentence was a disembodied voice blessing him with restful sleep. “That’s why your human loves you.”

**Author's Note:**

> oh yeah I can't take credit for that awesome "I knew you'd wear me well" line. It's from Amy Amy Amy by Amy Winehouse.


End file.
